


Maybe This is the End

by MidnightYujae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Smut, Zombie, kpop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightYujae/pseuds/MidnightYujae
Summary: Ria was nothing but a lost soul on a plane to Korea when it happened. She landed in the middle of chaos- people killing and eating each other. She adapted to the program and escaped and started surviving. Now, 2 months into the apocalypse she meets 10 boys who need her as much as she needs them.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Taeyong/OC, Youngho Suh| Johnny/OC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Maybe This is the End

**Author's Note:**

> Got inspired while reading a fanfic and watching the walking dead (;. This story IS sad and some of the members WILL die; if that makes you sad or uncomfortable PLZ click off. This may seem shitty at first, but trust me... it gets better! Also, the boys will definitely be arriving in the next chapter.

“This is not good for you! You can’t just shut down and move away because your parents are dead!” My aunt says I quickly prepare myself to board the plane. “Like hell I can.” I mutter and yank back my pass from the lady and continue speeding pass people, my aunt stopping behind me. “This is not coping!” She shouts at me and I whip around, eyes blazing. “You think you can tell me how to cope with my parents dying? They we’re my parents, okay?! And you’re not doing any better! I’m not a damn alcoholic like you; does the booze help ease the p-!” Her hand flies across my face. She looks at me with horror, and I stare back with the same surprised reaction, except my eyes are welling with tears and my mouth is turning up into an angry snarl. “You bitch!” I whisper, holding onto my cheek. Quickly, I make my way onto the plane, ignoring her shouts at me.  
I plop down in my seat, tears flowing. I get myself situated before leaning back and falling asleep.  
╳ ╳ ╳  
I wake up to the sound of screams and panicked cries. People are shouting over each other and the feeling of fear and danger looms all throughout the plane. Feeling the tension, I jolt in my seat and turn to the closest person.  
“What the hell is going on?” I say to a woman who is holding a wailing child.  
“The pilot said there’s something serious going on inside the airport. They won’t let us off the plane.” She whispers and I feel panic rushing through my veins.  
I stand up quickly, looking around at the other passengers before marching to the front of the plane, to the pilot’s pit. I pound on the door until my knuckles feel raw.  
The door flies open and the pilot looks at me with a bewildered expression. “What do you want?”  
“Let me off the plane.” My voice is low as I stare into his eyes. “No.” He says back before attempting to shut it; I stick my foot into the small space in between the door before he can shut it. “Let me off the damn plane.” I say louder, other passengers turn to stare at me. “I have strict orders to not let anyone off this plane until things are sorted-!” I step towards him, our noses touching . “I wouldn’t give a fuck if the goddamn president told you to hold us on this plane until Jesus came back! You let me off, or things are going to real fucking ugly.” I spit and he sighs. He goes back into the pit, and releases me and other passengers off the plane. We cautiously make or way to the airport entrance and open the door to see pure chaos.  
Before I can even register my thoughts bloody hands pull me into the airport and tackle me.  
A zombie.  
Snapping at me and clawing at my shirt. I squirm underneath it’s grasp and my bring my leg up to kick it in the chest, sending it flying backwards. I stand up quickly, and stomp on it’s head before it can get up, and keep stomping until it’s head is a pile of mush.  
In the corner of my eye, I see a body of a cop, intestines torn out, but a gun still attached to his hip. I make my way to him and take the gun out it’s holster before saying a quick sorry to the man.  
I look around me, registering the chaos, before collecting myself and walking to the parking lot.  
“Dammit,” I think, “I should’ve stayed in America.”


End file.
